G.U.A.R.D. Book #3: Recusant

-21-

   The next few days were pretty much all the same. After that night where I let my guard down, I let Slade make me laugh and be... someone I could be me with... I completely shut down. I barely made a peep. When Daniel joined us, I let him talk to me, but I didn't talk back. When Slade asked me questions, I gave as short answers as possible. I did as I was told.

I caught Slade looking at me more, as if wondering if he had made a mistake. But I ignored the looks and continued staring at Shelby Light. Slade's silence on the matter confirmed my suspicion. She was my mother. Did that fill me up? Make me feel whole again?

It might've before, but no. Not now.

I poured my heart and body into the workouts Slade laid out for me. The jogs every morning, the sparring after breakfast, even climbing the ropes and punching the punching bags. Over the week, I felt more exhausted than I had the entire time I had lived in G.U.A.R.D. Not just because of the physical exertion, though. I was barely sleeping at nights. I slept for a few hours, but the nightmare would return, and I would spend the rest of the hours gazing at Shelby Light. Mom. Whichever one.

I didn't see Jackie or Sarah or Jamie or Leslie. Justin, with his disgusting, assessing, lying persona, was nowhere in sight. The loneliness grew.

The only link I had to my sanity was the necklace. I wore it constantly, whether we were jogging or eating. I took it off for sparring just to ensure its safety, but otherwise, I wore it all times.

One day, Slade was doing paperwork on his desk. Daniel assisted him, sitting on a fold-up chair. I sat on my bed, staring at... Mom. The woman otherwise known as Jessie Victory. Jo Race. A G.U.A.R.D. agent. Maybe that's why I was in G.U.A.R.D. Because lying and killing was in my blood.

"... and then staple them together," Slade was saying. I looked up. He demonstrated his statement by clicking two pieces of paper together. "When you're an agent, you're going to be writing a lot of reports, and, trust me, the stapler will become your best friend."

"Just like computers, printers, and autocorrect?" Daniel asked.

Slade held up his hands. "Hey, when you become an agent, you make a lot of friends."

Daniel laughed. "Right."

The guy glanced back to see me staring at him with a blank expression. He broke eye contact, glancing at his watch.

"It's nearly the end of lunchtime," he said with a more subdued voice. "I should go up to the cafeteria."

"See you after," Slade said.

Daniel nodded, making his way to the door. But he paused by my bed.

"Natasha..."

I stared past him.

"Natasha."

I blinked, focusing on his face. "What do you want?"

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, the guy just sighed. "Forget it." He grabbed hold of the doorknob, but stopped. Then he turned around. "You know what? No, don't forget it. Natasha, over the past week I have apologized to you more times than I can count. I have been kind and understanding, and... I have a clear conscience."

I narrowed my eyes. "'A clear conscience?'"

"Yeah. you can't blame me for doing my job! Commander Barnes told me to take you to the shooting range."

"'Your job?' Your job?" I planted my feet on the cold floor and stood. "You have no idea what your job has done to me."

Slade turned around in his chair. "Hey-"